


A Kiss With A Fist Is Better Than None

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Arguing, M/M, Questioning, fluffy sorta ending, i dunno, lifts, or after, set season 4ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been ten whole minutes and Mickey could already feel himself wanting to smash his way out of the box, the walls felt like they were closing in, the only light left was the one distant across the lift directed towards a straight-faced redhead, who didn't look particularly happy. Standing up, with enough force to make the lift shake, he started frantically hitting against the walls. “Fucking hell, we need to get the fuck out of here! Don't rich fucks need lifts like they need sleep, Jesus Christ.” </p><p>Ian and Mickey get stuck in a lift whilst in a heated argument</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss With A Fist Is Better Than None

“Come on Mickey, lets go back to the party.” Ian whined as he continued to follow his boyfriend's rage towards the closed lift. Mickey had flipped out, big time, some fucker had come over trying to put his hands all over Ian claiming he “knew him”. Mickey saw the way the fucker snaked his fingers around what was his, and he was sure damn not happy about it. What he was happy about was the broken nose he had left with the guy, with an extra bonus of cracked ribs and two broken fingers. 

Mickey grunted from his spot, still not looking at Ian because he had stood there letting the guy get close to him. He had let Mickey watch and build up his anger like a bull in a ring. The guy was fucking hot too, Ian could have left with him any time. It was as if the stranger had been waving a red flag tempting Mickey into charging forward. “What, and let some fairies pounce all over you like you're a fucking show case. No thank you.” He pounded at the button, growing impatient at the fact the lift was not even there yet. 

“Typical, You get fucking jealous and it all gets chucked back onto me.” Ian slapped his hands against his jeans, before adding. “I should be fucking angry with you, not the other way round you ass!” He hadn't noticed he was shouting, he didn't particularly care. 

Mickey turned, eyebrows shot into his hairline. “What do you mean typical? You were letting that pansy fucker put his hands all over you!” God, he hated coming to these parties sometimes, he hated not being able to like the comfort of his own couch while watching Double Impact. “I don't know, maybe you fucking liked it.” 

Ian laughed manically, not in a good way. “What you trying to say? I'm some kind of slut?” Even Ian was starting to beg that the lift would come soon, it was taking its fucking time. All the people in the apartment could probably hear them.

Mickey shrugged with a don't-know-what-to-say kinda look, his finger harshly pressing against the button that was already lit up. “It didn't look like you were complaining.” He knew he shouldn't have said it, but fuck it. If Ian could let some guy touch him all over Mickey could piss on his parade for a while. 

Ian raised his hands in the air as he shouted, “Oh, fuck you Mickey.” Getting closer he didn't nudge the brunette as he usually would, he didn't wrap his arms around him and attempt to solve the shitty argument. The lift doors slowly opened, a couple of people going to the party leaving it. Before they both walked through it, Ian spat out. “Fuck you.” 

Mickey didn't look effected, he didn't really ever when they had an argument. Ian was the over-sensitive one, the one that shouted all over the place while Mickey sent of shrugs and tuts under his breath. “No, fuck you. Do you expect me to just stand there while some guy has his hands running down your pants? Huh.” 

Ian looked some-what guilty, his face softened but led back up into anger. “You know what, all the fucking times I wanted you to show me how you felt and the only time you really do is when your nearly killing a guy. Typical Mickey Milkovich.” Ian folded his arms, gesturing with one hand, over dramatically, for Mickey to click the button. Ian knew what he was doing, they always did this. Get to touchy subjects just to see who would crack first. 

“Well he fucking deserved it the sick perv.” Mickey huffed, avoiding contact with all measures. The lift began moving but not too fast, it seemed slower. Mickey was stood in the far corner, twitching his thumbs. Can you smoke in a lift, fuck it. Why was he even asking. Whipping out a smoke he heard Ian tut between his teeth, confirming his own statement.  
Ian pulled the smoke violently from Mickey's lips, stamping it on the ground with force of anger. “Why the hell can't you just come out with me and not have to beat up some guy by the end of the night. Why the fuck can't you just be a civilized person for once in your life!” For some reason he felt he should have never said that, he regretted it instantly with the look in Mickey's eyes that came after it. 

Mickey stomped over, the lift was unusually big but they were at Brian's his apartment block was fucking huge, Ian knocked himself against the back wall. The smaller boy jabbed his finger against his chest, “You don't have to be with me? Why don't you just go back upstairs to that phony and shag his brains out, hell, why not laugh about all the shitty times you had with me. Make fucking sweaters and have a picnic.” Ian didn't answer, he just gulped back his words in panic, Mickey looked hurt more than anything. “You knew what you were getting into, so don't fucking expect me to not punch every guy that tries to get his hands on you. Are you forgetting who I am?” 

Ian stood in silence, his chest burning up with the continuous prodding of the smaller boys finger. “Mickey, I-

“Fuck off Gallagher, I don't want to talk to you right now.” Mickey felt like teenage girl, but he couldn't help want to punch to wall, or even the buttons, but he knew if he did he wouldn't stop there. As much as Ian fucking pissed him off he couldn't just whack him in the face. The lights flickered on and off, the lift shaking underneath their feet. “Fucking hell, See what you've fucking done Gallagher-

The lift shook some more, before talking a halt and all of the buttons were shut off. The lights were off and Ian didn't even bother to look for Mickey in it, he was still angry. “See what you've fucking done Gallagher-” Ian mocked in a high pitch voice, hearing Mickey scoff at the terrible impression. “It's not my fault, you were the one who wanted to leave the goddamn party!” 

Mickey flipped him off, despite the lack of light and the fact Ian would have no idea it was there. “If you didn't let that fucker grope you in the first place we wouldn't be in this shitty elevator.” Mickey felt for the wall, beginning to smash against the buttons causing a echo through the whole lift. “Stupid fucking-

“Are we seriously still talking about that” Ian called from his spot, before adding towards the loud bangs against the side of the lift, “Great plan. Lets just smash the place up, maybe we could do a shawshank redemption and dig ourselves out?” God he wished he had a hammer for something else. 

Mickey groaned in frustration from his angle of trying to hammer open the buttons, some-how hoping they would hear his prayers to start moving again. “I swear to fucking God I'm going to kick the teeth out of your mouth if you don't shut up.” The darkness hadn't yet cleared up, if anything, it had started to get even more darker than it had been originally.. 

“Have fun trying to do that in the pitch black.” Ian snapped back, hearing Mickey mumble something about not having a light or some shit. Ian scoffed to himself, putting his hand in his back pocket and retrieving his phone out. “Are you living in the middle ages, we have phones you dick.” Ian noticed his phone was almost at ten percent, okay maybe he had his phone for a little while, he turned on the torch and shone it directly into the path of Mickey, almost blinding him. 

Mickey squinted his eyes, turning away with his hands trying to block out the light. “Fuck off smart-ass, I thought I told you I didn't want to talk to you.” Mickey, secretly,appreciated Ian's idea of the light, totally forgetting that he had actually two sources of light; His shitty brick phone, that was probably dead, and his lighter but he needed that for when he got to stressed out and needed a smoke. 

Ian slid down the wall he had been leaning on, turning the torch off and looking onto the aps he had organised on his phone. “Well I don't want to talk to you either, so.” He flicked through his files, remembering that he hadn't topped up his phone and messaging Mandy or Lip wasn't exactly available. He guessed he would just have to deal with fucking crossy road. 

“Fine.” Mickey muttered under his breath, also taking a seat on the floor of the lift, as far away as possible from his pissy boyfriend. The music from the phone across from him was already pissing him off, his phone was literally on 1 percent. All he had now was a box of smokes and a light, he guessed it wasn't too bad. 

Ian watched as Mickey took out a box of smokes, his insides driving themselves to ask for one, but he stopped himself. He had to be pissed at Mickey. “Fine.” They both sat in silence, Ian continuously playing his game over and over, and Mickey was sat smoking his ciggarettes like they were going out of fashion. This lift needed to get moving, fucking soon. 

 

It had been ten whole minutes and Mickey could already feel himself wanting to smash his way out of the box, the walls felt like they were closing in, the only light left was the one distant across the lift directed towards a straight-faced redhead, who didn't look particularly happy. Standing up, with enough force to make the lift shake, he started frantically hitting against the walls. “Fucking hell, we need to get the fuck out of here! Don't rich fucks need lifts like they need sleep, Jesus Christ.” 

“Don't be so dramatic, its only been like ten minutes.” Ian imputed, eyes not leaving his dimming phone. Mickey glared from where he was stood, eyes pointing down with the shadow of the light making him look almost demonic. However, he wasn't going to give Ian the benefit of the doubt and actually talk to him, he still had to be pissed at him. Ian sighed loudly, intending to make Mickey stir. “The silent treatment, really mature.” 

Mickey inhaled quietly, trying to stop himself from screaming from his lungs and punching the wall so hard the lift might actually break. Sliding down the wall once more, he lit up another smoke. His lungs were as black as the lift, probably. Ian still hadn't looked up and that was pissing Mickey off even more. Usually Ian would try and speak to him, maybe cry a little, wrap his arms around him despite his protests. He fucking hated lifts. 

 

Ten more minutes went by but this time it was Ian who had cracked from the silence and blackening darkness that wasn't too friendly. “We're going to fucking die in here.” He stripped from his leather jacket, the cold wall hitting against his back. With relief he went back to his phone but instantly it was telling him goodbye, fucking phones. They were not caught without a light, until Mickey flicked his lighter and the flame caused a glow against his face. 

“Who's being dramatic now?” Mickey snapped from across the lift, chucking a smoke and the lighter over to Ian because he couldn't be arsed with creating another argument that needed to be sorted. “Those guys you said were apparently fixing this shit are getting a beat down when we get out. They did this on fucking purpose.” 

Ian rolled his eyes around the lit cigarette, “Oh here we go again. Milkovich violence at its best.” Forcefully and over the top, he threw the lighter across to Mickey smacking him bang into the chest. With a yelp Mickey adjusted himself as if it never happened. 

“I fucking hate you.” Mickey spat, not meaning it but intending to show Ian a piece of him. Really, in reality he couldn't ever hate Ian, they both knew that. That's why this shit was never effective because Ian knew him, probably better than himself. 

“Sure you do.” Ian hummed as he exhaled his smoke. Confirmed by the person himself, Mickey scoffed from the other side, trying to act as if he was against it all. Ian knew him too well, it fucking pissed him off. He couldn't say anything with knowing Ian knew exactly what he meant, or what he was going to do. 

 

The atmostphere went quiet for a couple of minutes; Mickey was repeatedly flicking his lighter, open, closed, open, closed. Ian was getting a little irritated by the twitching in his fingers and numbness forming in his legs. Mickey hadn't yet said anything else, he stared past Ian's head counting dots he saw against the wall with the help of his lighter. It was silent until Mickey finally cut it open with a underlining question that ultimately surprised Ian. 

“Did you mean what you said?” His voice was quieter than usual, just a whisper in the wind. The lift was larger than expected so his voice traveled loudly, Mickey fucking hated lifts. With a passion. He could see Ian looking up, a black figure but still Ian. After being sat in there for almost half an hour, his eyes were finally adjusting. 

Ian felt confused, there was so many things that he could be referring too. “About what?” He tried not to sound too stubborn, Mickey sounded like he needed to hear the answer, that it had been on his mind the whole half an hour of being there, stuck like pigs in a barn. Minus the pigs, minus the barn. 

“You wanting me to be fucking civilized, did you mean what you said?” At first Mickey wanted to be angry, hell, he had shown he was. But maybe Ian did want someone who didn't have to throw a punch just to show how they feel about someone, maybe he should have someone who was actually civilized other-than a ex-con with an anger problem, that he didn't want to look further into. 

Ian should have known that would stick in Mickey's mind. He still had the mental image of Mickey's jaw slack, face softening, almost hurt look that wouldn't yet wash away. “It was the heat of the moment type thing Mick- 

Mickey felt himself snap, again, the anger pushing itself out everytime he forced it back down. “You must know now that I can't be that kind of fucking person, punching people is all I know.” The smaller boy dropped his eyes to his lap, “Well, until...you, and y'know.” 

The younger boy sighed, too loudly, a little smirk quirking up onto his lips. “I know. Just sometimes you don't have to beat the shit out of guys who've put their hands on me. I can look after myself too.” Atleast he tried to resolve the situation, somehow. He wasn't angry at Mickey anymore, well he hoped. It sounded like Mickey was questioning everything. Ian should of know better that Mickey wasn't great with civilly sorting shit out, all his life he had been taught that using fists was a way of showing feeling. “It's not like I'm leaving you anytime soon anyway.” 

Mickey glanced up, quickly, after Ian had added the words. “You could, y'know?” It was a thought that wasn't meant to leave his lips, oh well, it was out there now. 

“Could what?” 

The brunette bit his lip, not sure how to word it without sounding like he wanted Ian to leave. Like fuck, did he want him to leave. It happened before and it was fucking horrible, never-mind that, it was fucking terrifying. “When this lift starts to fucking work you can go upstairs and fuck that dude. It might fucking hurt me, but atleast he's civilized.” The words ended as if the argument would build up again, he waited for Ian to just lash out. This time he didn't. 

With a laugh Ian picked up his words, scowling towards the thought of even going home with the fuck upstairs. “No fucking way. Did you see his eyebrows?” The smirk rested on his face, even though it was dark Mickey could feel it clear as fucking day. 

“Eyebrows? What the fuck Gallagher?” Suddenly, he felt an urge to just feel his own eyebrows, he didn't know, maybe check if they were still there or if they were on to Ian's standards of okay eyebrows whatever the fuck they were. It was like the topic of arguing was out of the window now, and he was fucking glad of it. 

Ian nodded like an hour enthusiastic kid, his figurine snooped closer to Mickey, crawling on all fours slowly till he reached him. “Yeh. Yours are all shaped and have super fucking game. His were just boring lines of hair, plus, they couldn't do that pointy things yours do when your mad.” Ian's finger traced along the hair of Mickey's eyebrow. 

“Fucking werido, do you just stare at eyebrows all fucking day because right now it sounds like you do.” Mickey swatted his hand away, biting back words that his brain immediately told him to say. What Ian had said earlier did, kinda, stick with him. “Is that all you want me for, my eyebrows?” 

“Well, they are pretty cool eyebrows.” Ian nodded to himself, splitting a grin wide on his face. With a close whisper to the brunettes ear, “But I like them better because they're yours.” 

Mickey felt that straight up tingle, the twitch in his pants. “Fucking eyebrow perv” Some reason he felt extremely consious of his eyebrows, he was turning into a fucking girl. Next they would be plucking eachothers eyebrows, walking out with redness surrounding them. 

Ian was still hovering, his eyes roaming against Mickey's body. Mickey could feel his brain ticking, Ian wanted to say something. “Fucking spit it out Firecrotch.” 

“You do know right, that those things- I didn't mean them, I just got angry.” He looked slumped as hell. “I want you no one else, all the beating shit including. I guess you have FUCK-U-UP on your knuckles for a reason.” He laughed that huffing beauty, his lips curling in a way that made Mickey's stomach flip. 

As soon as Mickey connected their lips, mumbling “Me too” against the blushing pair, the lights dahsed back on. The vibration and sound of the lift moving all together coming back. Before they got anytime to prepare themselves for the opening doors it was too late. The light binged, and the speaker announced they were at ground level, the doors opened to a familiar face. Mandy's familiar face. 

“Jesus, how long have you two been in there?” She turned her nose up, eyes scanning around the buts of smokes and coats chucked to the side. At this point Ian was straddling Mickey and his hands were literally everywhere. 

“Mandy?!” They called out in union, what the fuck was she doing all the way back in North-side. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Mickey called out, his hands still wrapped around Ian's waist, mind laughing in the face of the fuck who so wanted to do this upstairs. 

Mandy shrugged, swinging a plastic bag infront of her. “Thought I'd come save you dicks, we are crashing out in some old fuckers house, you wanna join?” 

They never moved so quickly. Mickey didn't give a shit about what they had been screaming about, he was going to let Ian fuck him so hard he would have wished they were stuck in the lift longer. Long enough to fuck in there too.


End file.
